


Baby Weight

by royal_blue43



Category: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Super, Dragon Ball Z
Genre: Drama, F/M, Family Drama, Family Feels, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:00:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28593636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/royal_blue43/pseuds/royal_blue43
Summary: Vegeta and Bulma embark on a challenging journey as they prepare for their daughter's birth, drawing on each other's strength to make it through. (Story is complete. It will be published in three acts.)
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta, VegeBul - Relationship
Comments: 7
Kudos: 48





	1. Reunion

**Author's notes: This story is set in Dragon Ball Super's timeline. Some felt Bulla's birth deserved a different presentation.  
**

* * *

Vegeta was sleeping particularly hard - unusual for him, though not unexpected. This circumstance simply reaffirmed Whis' phenomenal training skills. The angel set simple goals for himself before putting the Saiyan prince through the paces daily. Each of Vegeta's extraordinary milestones during their four months together on Beerus' planet were teachable moments for the teacher. The perpetually peevish god of destruction woke up monthly to eyeball Vegeta's progress but didn't involve himself beyond that.

Son Goku arrived three months into the training cycle, having found out about his rival's sabbatical on the sly after overhearing a conversation between his boy Goten and Vegeta's son Trunks. The big guy was displeased - in his good-natured yet shamelessly competitive way, of course - that Vegeta hadn't prodded him to join in the, erm… fun. But Goku had no one else to blame but himself for not checking on the Brief family after being off-planet for his own playtime. He had even taken his wife Chi Chi with him to watch - no small feat - hoping to reconnect with her emotionally in a different way. After all, she was a martial artist too.

The news definitely wasn't supposed to be broadcast everywhere yet, and after Trunks learned that Goku knew, he had been mentally girding himself for his father's inevitable psychological torture. He adored his dad, but Vegeta took no prisoners when seemingly easy rules had been broken for no good reason. "Keeping your mouth shut shouldn't have been that difficult," the teenager expected to hear, ultimately.

What saved Trunks during month three was his mother's revelation of her pregnancy. He was practically over the moon with delight when Bulma told him. He wasn't ecstatic about having a second kid to deal with eventually, but a legitimate distraction had been found - though he was dying to know whether his parents had planned this. Would he ask directly? Hell no.

Shockingly, Bulma encouraged Vegeta continue his training with Whis. This was the longest they had been separated in quite a while, and at first Vegeta wondered whether something was wrong. Bulma tried to reassure her concerned husband that everything was OK, adding that she trusted he would be home closer to her delivery date. Both knew what was at stake: their marriage and her health.

Vegeta had returned to Earth twice since then, finding it more difficult to leave Bulma each time. He did not tell Goku, Whis, or Beerus about her pregnancy. The trio's personalities were painfully aggravating when they picked on him together. He hadn't spent all of this time as a trainee - as well as _serving_ Whis and Beerus like a mute steward - to lose focus. With Goku present, Whis all but said the prince had to soften his attitude - and pull out the invisible stick up his ass - to further surpass his remarkable achievements.

Nevertheless, Vegeta had already decided to depart the second week of month five. When Whis asked why, the prince kept his response brief and direct.

"I need to be with my wife and son for a lengthier time now. We know that what I've accomplished here with you is far from over, but with all due respect, I prefer that _no one_ join me after we arrive on Earth."

Whis smiled and bowed. "Of course, Prince Vegeta. I understand your desire for privacy. You also have more than earned the right not to have Beerus consume every last morsel of food in your house - oh, and I guess I fit into that equation too."

"I…appreciate your graciousness," Vegeta replied, ignoring the angel's mischief. "Let's leave in three days."

Whis's scepter whirled, conjuring an image of Vegeta and Goku sparring near a lake. "As a parting gift, I'll also keep Son Goku here somehow. He may think you have some other competitive trick up your sleeve once you leave."

Vegeta strained not to roll his eyes. "What Kakarot _does_ or _doesn't_ do is not my concern."

Whis chortled, still hoping to get a rise out of his prized student. "If you say so."

"Hmph," Vegeta grunted, folding his arms. "Use the Arcadian lessons to keep him distracted. He won't quit until mastering those tests like I have. There's nothing quiet or pleasurable about it, despite the deceptive name you've given those blood-letting exercises."

"That is an excellent idea!" Whis agreed, eagerly waving his golden staff in the air. "Oh, and Vegeta, though I am an angel and must stay distanced from many situations, how is Bulma? That, um, scare we had last year with Zamasu, Black, and the older Trunks seems to have affected you both."

Vegeta inhaled, hoping not to lose patience. Whis normally knew better than to prolong talks like this. The angel's judgment was correct, but the prince would never acknowledge it. After spending a more than quarter of the year away from family to train even harder, and living like a monk, why state the obvious? He didn't need or want a seraphic therapist - though, truth be told, that's exactly the role Whis played.

"My… wife… and I have been in each other's flight paths for almost twenty years. We do a damn good job of weathering storms, which you've seen up close, including when Bulma went with us to battle Zamasu - oh, and when she _foolishly_ slapped Beerus the _first_ time _._ _Are you and I done now_?"

"Yes, yes," Whis replied, politely leaving the prince to his thoughts. "Sleep well."

Vegeta sounded more assured than he actually felt but then shrugged off that anxiety to get the slumber his body and mind demanded. He dreamt of his wife holding their soon-to-be child, a little girl.

Bulma would have loved to work up through month nine, but that definitely wasn't happening. It certainly didn't when she carried Trunks. Five months in and the weight gain from the growing fetus hit her body like a ton of concrete, yet her food cravings weren't as outrageous or voracious. Her blood pressure, however, had been stubbornly elevated, but not so much to require hospitalization or radical treatment. Bulma's parents appeared to be the most worried, but additional prenatal examinations showed no glaring abnormalities, blood-chemistry problems, or physical signs indicating clinical pre-eclampsia.

Bulma's obstetrician, a close family friend who delivered Trunks, still wanted everyone to keep a watchful eye on the hard-charging scientist, after prescribing a round of medication to gradually lower her pressure. Despite numerous advancements in gynecology, there would always be more risk carrying a hybrid child, especially with Bulma being older. She had been in great shape before, nonetheless, also with the help of modern biotechnology.

Indeed, this pregnancy was a surprise. Bulma appeared to take the news in stride at first - and learning that she and Vegeta were having a girl was especially delightful - but she also had become more anxious. So instead of exercising more to take the edge off, she worked longer hours, having assistants carry out physical tasks, but not all, in Capsule Corporation labs that demanded more energy from her. Trunks didn't make a big deal, choosing to be quietly protective. He brought her dinner some evenings or did summertime homework in her back office. Bulma knew what he doing, of course, and loved his thoughtfulness. She also believed that her son had spent one too many nights falling asleep outside of his own bed.

She gently touched his head, waking him. "I'm all right, honey. Go get in bed."

"You coming with me?" Trunks asked with a crafty and charming smile. "Dad would want that."

"Would he?' Bulma touched her chest like a surprised maiden. "Please, young prince, _do_ tell me more."

Trunks yawned as he sat up. "Mom, come on, you really are being extra right now -- even for you. Is all this around-the-clock work necessary?"

"Our family will have its hands full after I give birth, Trunks. Who knew I would get pregnant? I must see these projects through so the others can take over while I'm on maternity leave."

Finally, the mystery was solved. Trunks now had his chance. "So you and dad didn't plan this?"

Bulma laughed, sitting down. "Are you kidding me?! Would you please give us more credit for acting like adults sometimes, boy? We would have told you!"

"I guess," Trunks replied, placing his arms behind his head. He looked very much like his dad during these moments. "Anyway, back to subject at hand. Would you please come with me?"

Feeling a tiny kick, Bulma rubbed her stomach, inviting Trunks to join her. He hesitated at first, as if his mother would shatter on contact, but then followed her lead. Bulma noticed a sparkle in his eyes, indicating her son's growing eagerness about her pregnancy. She knew Trunks hadn't been thrilled about surrendering his single-child status - despite his best efforts to hide his feelings - but trusted that his good nature and sense of responsibility would prevail.

"You certainly don't give Vegeta this much grief when he's training like a maniac sometimes."

"I would if dad were having a baby Saiyan and looked really tired, like you do now, though that also would be utterly terrifying."

"For all of us," Bulma said as they snickered. "Could you imagine his food cravings? We'd go broke feeding him!"

"That's for sure," Trunks replied, kissing his mother's cheek. "Maybe some animal species would go extinct afterward too. OK, so you have one hour to leave here, by my orders, or I'm calling Nana and Gramps."

"Oooh, I'm shaking in my lab shoes with fear," Bulma said. "But because you asked so sweetly at the beginning, I'll follow along later."

Trunks hugged his mom again, pausing to study her face. "You sure you're OK? You feel kind of warm."

"I'm fine, kiddo. Your papa will be home to fuss soon enough. I'm kind of looking forward to him annoying us."

"Definitely!" Trunks said, jumping up. "Has he said when he's coming?"

"No, but this is our usual night to chat for all of ten minutes, and I haven't heard from him. Must be on his way here sometime this week. Now get going, you brat, and I love you."

Trunks' head cocked sideways. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You may have dad wrapped around your thumb with all that sweet talk, but not me."

"Liar!" Bulma shouted, throwing a teddy bear at the back of her son's head. "I won't forget this!" She picked up a small mirror on the end table beside her. Trunks had made his point, but she didn't look completely haggard. Thus she had another thirty minutes of work to finish.

She woke the next day feeling achingly exhausted and sniffly. She had been sleeping propped up in bed to remain moderately comfortable at night. After having the bots put on her slippers -- bending over was unlikely today -- she shuffled to the kitchen for toast and ginger ale to settle her queasy stomach. Trunks had left a note on the fridge, bearing a huge smiley face.

" _Bet you I'll know when dad arrives before you do!"_ the note said. _"I'll run interference, so get yourself together. Love, your mesmerizingly adorable son."_

Bulma shook her head, nipping at her toast. "Where does our son get this attitude from?"

"I thought you would have figured that out by now, young lady."

Bulma set her plate down, turning slowly. It was becoming profoundly more troublesome that people could just waltz into her home now without announcement or prior warning. "A call would have been fine too, Yamcha. I'm five months into this baby thing."

"If you're worried about how you look --"

Annoyed, Bulma made direct eye contact. "If you want to keep those lovely teeth veneers unbroken, then find another topic -- quickly."

Yamcha sighed. "Congratulations?"

Bulma smiled. "Perfect. Come on over here, because I'm not coming to you."

"I figured I'd get by to see you before Vegeta returns - and before you ask, Trunks snuck me inside."

"No shit," Bulma replied, hugging him. "My son enjoys his practical jokes. What if I had slept in longer?"

"Then I would have waited. It's… not like I didn't spend a lot of time around here back in the day."

"True," Bulma agreed, stretching her back. "You want some coffee?"

"I can make some for myself. You sit down. Look, I don't plan to stay long, but consider me an emissary for the gang -- Krillin, Gohan and Videl, and Chi Chi and Launch. It's time take a breather in the dugout. Stop working _today,_ Bulma."

Bulma snorted, looking over his shoulder. "You're not the boss of me. Who the hell do you think you're talking to?"

"The woman I once loved," Yamcha replied quietly, "who is now loved by someone who may not be able to say 'no' as forcefully as he used to do."

"Oh please!" Bulma groaned. "Vegeta? My husband has about a million ways of saying 'no.'"

"Of which ninety percent goes ignored by you," Yamcha quipped. "Seriously though, whatever it is you're dealing with, get on top of the problem before Vegeta comes back. You don't have to talk with me, but talk with someone, hon. This is about your health here."

Bulma set her glass down. "You're not making sense. There is no problem. If Vegeta really wants me to stop working after he returns, then I will take him seriously, but as I've told everyone, I am fine. Since the beginning of time, women have worked or been forced to work - sometimes like dogs - while carrying babies. I am in charge of my body. So as the gang's brave emissary, you can tell them to calm down."

"Of course I can, but I reserve the right not to," Yamcha retorted. "Remember when Vegeta almost blew himself to bits in that training capsule, after he came to live here? You warned him, and he didn't listen."

Bulma jaw slackened, intensifying her deep frown. She hadn't wanted to recall this memory whatsoever. At the time, she believed Vegeta's behavior was downright suicidal. There would always be pain, being who he was, but this was punishment. Not only did it anger her, but it was also heartrending to witness.

"If memory serves me right, Yamcha, you tried a similar gravity sequence and almost flattened yourself like a pancake - so you're close to overstaying your welcome by taking this approach."

"Yeah, I know, and your hubby and I will never like each other, but the one thing we both can agree on is we understand self-destructive behavior. You may be married to a Saiyan punching bag, but you aren't built like one."

Now Bulma was actually determined to work despite being as tired as she felt. "And I resent the insinuation that I would do anything to put the fetus or myself in harm's way. Honestly, Yamcha, be glad we go way back as friends, or else the guards would be carrying you out of here. Finish your coffee and grab a croissant from the bread warmer. I need to dress for the day."

Bulma inhaled, staring at her now-swollen ankles as she prepared to stand. Wanting to help, Yamcha gradually stepped beside her, extending his arm for support. Bulma stubbornly moved it back.

"Let me gather myself," she protested. "The baby weight carries much differently from the way it did with Trunks. I'm still adjusting."

"Just take my help," Yamcha insisted with a chuckle. "You're so ridiculously pigheaded. You and the pocket-size prince are truly made for each other."

"Keep that up and I'll tell Vegeta about your new nickname for him," Bulma replied, gripping his forearm. "You're also being sexist, teasing about his stature like that. My husband and I are the same height, you know."

"As I said, you're made for each other," Yamcha replied with a sprawling grin. "That's a fact, not sexism."

After getting on her feet, Bulma tried to catch her full breath, which took a mite longer than she wished. Her upper chest felt constricted, but she didn't want to attract further scrutiny from Yamcha. She patted his shoulder - an unvoiced thank you. They smiled together as her head raised.

"How's the new girlfriend, tiger?"

"Cherisse and I have been together four years, Bulma."

"That long? Wow. Time flies!"

Yamcha blushed like a shy little boy. "Yeah…yeah. I'm asking her to marry me tonight."

Bulma covered her mouth. "Oh, that's fantastic! I'm so happy for you!"

"Thanks. I…figure I still have time to be a dad. We're healthy and active, and she wants kids."

"You'll be a wonderful father," Bulma said, clapping gleefully. "Make it quick then. Our children can be playmates like Trunks and Goten were."

"Maybe so. So will you take it easy today? You're obviously exhausted."

Bulma exhaled. "Since you won't let up, how about a compromise? I won't spend hours in the labs with my army of employees. I'll just go into my main office for a while to do paperwork but not take calls or hold meetings. Then I'll take off work for the rest of the week. I'll text Trunks and my parents too."

Yamcha raised his fists in the air. "Excellent! I still have the persuasive touch!"

Bulma laughed. "I think I can take it from here, baseball coach. Don't forget, I also have the bots to help me around the house."

Yamcha held the side of the kitchen door. "Vegeta is one of the luckiest fools in this universe. He owes _his life_ to you, and he knows it. We… all do in different ways, I guess."

Bulma nodded, holding back tears. None of her friends had ever said this. "You know, I hadn't realized until now how much I needed to hear that. Thank you."

"Well now you have," Yamcha said, following with quick kisses on Bulma's cheeks. He trotted toward the main entrance without another look. "Can't wait to see your new princess. Bye, buddy."

Bulma's left hand rested next to a framed picture of Trunks on a console table. "Bye, buddy. Send me a picture after you propose to Cherisse."

"You got it!" Yamcha exclaimed cheerfully.

Bulma's eyes closed as she swallowed. She desired a lengthy shower but decided to stay on the main floor in order to do it. Otherwise, a scooter would be needed to return to the master bedroom. After texting her son, she patted her stomach with a tired smile.

"Please don't turn over inside of me just yet, little one. We're teammates, remember? Give me a…a little air. Mama's energy is down today. I just…just need to get a few more things done. A few more things. Then we'll…we'll put our legs up for some relaxation and wait for your papa to show. He was so _excited_ after feeling you kick so early."

The family library and study was across the hall from the guest bedroom with the shower. Bulma took a detour, spotting a book she thought she wanted. Her breaths were shorter, so she sat on a sofa facing a large oak desk. Laying down flat would have made her discomfort worse.

"I guess work will… have to wait. Another nap won't hurt."

Two hours later, Trunks and Goten stampeded into the house like hyenas. The two had stopped by Bulma's office first, only to discover her absence. Of course Trunks was pleased, figuring that they could all do something fun. It was June. Summer was made for movie-watching, and he didn't have any tutoring again until Friday. Bulma hadn't returned his texts or a call, though, which was odd.

Goten scratched the back of his head. "You think she's eaten up the cookies your grandma baked?"

Trunks shrugged. "I doubt it. Her sweet tooth seems to have disappeared over the past few weeks. It kind of sucks in other ways, especially since I don't have as much ice cream at my fingertips anymore. Anyway, let's hurry up and find her. She's probably in the study drawing something or reading some fashion magazines."

Guns, the family's silver-haired Persian cat, meowed loudly from the study's entrance. She instantaneously pawed at Trunks' legs before scurrying to the sofa. The boys dropped their backpacks, rushing to Bulma's side. Her right arm hung down limply, almost touching the floor. Her face was pale and clammy.

Trunks held Bulma's chin, observing her shallow breathing. They didn't have much time. "Mom, mom, open your eyes. We're going to get you some help."

"I'll ring an ambulance," Goten said, unlocking his smartphone.

Trunks' hand raised to redirect him. "Hold up. Mom's not breathing well. Hit the switch next to that bookshelf. There's a first-aid kit and mini oxygen machine inside of the compartment. Then press the red button inside to summon the paramedics."

The teen touched his mother's stomach. For now, the life growing inside still had a strong ki, but it wouldn't stay that way much longer if Bulma weren't treated soon. To keep her from entering full shock, he tried what Vegeta taught him about using ki to keep physically impaired bodies somewhat stable. A hazy white glow formed between his fingers, spreading across Bulma's chest, while Goten put on the oxygen mask. He firmly held his best friend's shoulder afterward.

"She's going to be OK, bud."

Trunks' striking blue eyes radiated his grit. "They're _going_ to be fine. I still have a sister to meet."

* * *

**Thanks for being here! Let me know what you think.**


	2. His Bulma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From last chapter: Vegeta prepares to come home. Bulma is confronted by those who love her about taking better care of herself.

As promised, Whis departed as soon as he dropped Vegeta next to the front door. The prince was dressed in a white T-shirt and black jeans, wearing an engraved gold watch Bulma gave him during a past wedding anniversary. In the beginning, it would have been unthinkable for him to wear a piece of jewelry like that -- anywhere -- but he eventually became more comfortable with it. Whatever sentiment he held for material possessions usually centered on the battle suits and training wear Bulma designed for him. They were just as much a part of his character as being a Saiyan.   
  
The night air was refreshingly cool for June, which he appreciated. A sinking feeling gripped his insides as the smell of cigarettes lingered around the entrance. Dr. Brief opened the door, rubbing his chin whiskers.  
  
Vegeta felt heat rising through his body. He couldn't sense Bulma anywhere. She didn’t have strongest ki, being human, but they were bonded as mates. He could usually sense her when close by. He just expected her to be there and hadn't done his normal check. He kind of wanted to surprise her too.   
  
"Where is…is…my wife?"  
  
"In intensive care at the health center," Dr. Brief replied. "Trunks and Goten found her before she stopped breathing. I said I would stay just in case you arrived. Prayers now answered, so let's go, son."  
  
"You all had a way to contact me!" Vegeta said angrily. "Whis gave Trunks and Bulma communicators!"

"Don't take that tone with me, especially not _now_ ," Dr. Brief barked, which he rarely did with anyone. "Bulma is your wife, but she is _my child_. I helped give birth to my daughter, as I hope you will be able to do with yours. Your son also did an excellent job caring for her until the medics arrived. _Focus on that_."  
  
Vegeta rubbed the bones over his tensed eyebrows. "I'll…I'll drive. Give me your car capsule." He hadn't yelled at his father-in-law about anything important in years. The last time was about a project they worked on together.  
  
Dr. Brief shook his head. "No, no. You fly, Vegeta. It will be faster. I'll meet you there."  
  
"You get _one pass_ for smoking in our home," Vegeta replied sternly. "Don't let it happen again. You should eat, too, to keep your strength up, and bring something for Panchy and Trunks. You know how she is about all of that kind of thing."  
  
"I only had one cigarette," Dr. Brief said, accepting his son-in-law's implied apology. No matter their differences, he felt more assured that Vegeta was trying to do his best. "Lived in this place for so long, you know? I'm sorry. I have a favor to ask before you go, though."  
  
Vegeta crossed his arms. "Hm?"  
  
Dr. Brief removed his giant glasses, gazing hard at him. "Hug _my grandson_ when you get there, Vegeta. _Hug him_."  
  
For Vegeta, the old man's simple request was like a camera's flash, triggering a lifetime's worth of complicated memories, as a father, son, and husband -- and fighter. "I'll see you at the hospital."  
  
Bulma's obstetrician met Vegeta in her office. Mia Albu was a tiny woman but also as tough as steel, ready and willing to absorb his fear-driven fury. She hadn't expected to be confronted quietly after explaining the details. That concerned her more.  
  
Vegeta continued reading Bulma's medical chart until the doctor stopped talking. "Tell me, Mia, _why_ I should trust your judgment from this point forward? One major warning sign stood out all along -- her blood pressure. That was supposed to be under control."  
  
"We believed we were managing it effectively, Vegeta. Bulma's urine protein numbers have been steady, so we couldn't definitively diagnose pre-eclampsia. The fluid in her lungs that we're treating now wasn't caused by a previously undetected heart condition. She has an underlying infection that we're treating, which you saw in the chart. The fetus has put more pressure on her lung capacity. It was nowhere near this when she carried Trunks to term."  
  
As if he didn't know this. He wasn't completely absent back then -- just not present. Bulma's pregnancy wasn't the easiest, but her energy held up well before and after giving birth. Having Chi Chi there for advice helped too.  
  
"So what is the definitive diagnosis then?" He was in no mood to deal with anyone's dissembling about his wife's condition, and he was prepared to call bullshit. The hell with formality.  
  
"There is _no one thing,_ " Mia replied. "It's a combination. From what the rest of your family tells me, Bulma has been overworking between your trips home, which likely depleted her body's reserves and weakened her immune system. I suspected as much during the last prenatal examination and cautioned her. The best news is the fetus is safe."  
  
"There is no _best news_ until they're both in good health," Vegeta replied curtly. "You should know me well enough to understand how much I disapprove of downplaying harsh realities. _What is her prognosis_?"  
  
"We got to her in time, Vegeta. We don't have to deliver the fetus prematurely to keep Bulma stable. There's no _apparent_ heart damage or kidney damage, but we'll reassess as we go along."  
  
Vegeta's sable eyes watched for the slightest movements to confirm whether Mia held anything back. "How long can I stay in the ICU with her?"  
  
"As her husband, for as long as _you_ want. We just can't have many other people coming in and out."  
  
"Our son too?"  
  
"He can join you together for short periods, but we really should limit to one person per visit. Listen, let's bring Trunks in here so you can talk. I'll attend to some other duties."  
  
Mia opened the door, patting Trunks' shoulder as they passed by each other. The teen had his hands in his pockets, staring down as Vegeta rose to reunite with him.  
  
"Papa, I'm sorry. I thought everything would be OK with mom. That's why I didn't contact you. She was being herself, but I thought I was looking after her all right…in the best way I could. She said earlier that she wouldn't work the rest of the week, since we figured you would be home soon. I didn't know she was so close to getting really sick. I mean, from what I felt, her ki was a little shaky. I'm sorry I let you down. I should have --"  
  
"We can discuss all of this _as a family_ after Bulma's condition improves," Vegeta said. "Just because I was considered an adult at your age doesn't mean I expect _you_ to fully see yourself as one _yet --_ though you're close -- and, yes, I expected to stay informed. However, I also understand your mother's profound influence on you. It's hard to tell her no. Oh yeah, before I forget, your grandfather asked… me to give you something."  
  
"OK, papa." With his back turned, Trunks soon felt his father's burly arm around his neck, drawing him closer.  
  
"You saved her life and that of your unborn sister," Vegeta said with all of the powerful fatherly reassurance he could muster. "Focus on that. I am so very proud of you -- and indebted."   
  
Trunks was bound to be much taller within a year, his father thought. Better to do this now. The boy kept his head down, but being able to completely hug his dad again meant everything to him. Dr. Brief, in his infinite wisdom, recognized that father and son needed a moment such as this.  
  
Bulma's mother entered the ICU's antechamber to hand them face masks. Trunks and Vegeta passed underneath an infrared light to kill any microbes on their bodies that could cause another infection.  
  
"She's very sleepy, boys," Panchy said as Trunks embraced her. "They gave her a drug to relieve the discomfort."  
  
"Papa, um, you should stay for now. I can come back."  
  
"That's so thoughtful of you, darling," Panchy said. "Grandpa says he bringing some food for us. You go ahead in there, Vegeta." She knew intuitively that her son-in-law wanted to be alone with Bulma but also wouldn't deny his son access, now that everyone was together.  
  
Vegeta glanced at Bulma's bed. "Don't feel compelled to leave if you really don't want to."  
  
"I mean it," Trunks said, shaking his head. "You've been gone a long time. It's OK."  
  
A mellow whoosh followed the electronic doors' closure, raising the lighting level, though not too much. Vegeta moved a chair to the bed's left side. Bulma's sleeping body laid at an angle to ease the pressure on her vital organs. Seeing his beautiful, brave wife of the receiving end of this type of care was more agonizing than he had anticipated. Worry's leaden ache finally settled into numbness, which he preferred until his thoughts and emotions aligned. He had to be ready for all possibilities, good or bad.   
  
His jawline stiffened as his and Bulma's fingers interlaced. Her hand was cold. He couldn't abide by that. No, not at all. He took both palms to warm them with his ki, waking her. Then he felt his wife's stomach. The fetus was sleeping comfortably, he sensed. Though weak, Bulma smiled affectionately as he moved in closer. True to her nature, she tried to talk, despite being on a ventilator to breathe.  
  
Vegeta touched her right temple, shushing her. At least the drug she received was working appropriately, he thought. _"I realize you're not a fan of telepathy, but I favor it. I know you don't want to believe it, but you are made of flesh and blood."  
_  
Bulma's petite fingers pressed on his knuckles. _"Stop…stop pestering me, you jerk. Leave…me…alone."_   
  
One of their first major arguments after Vegeta moved in with her family began like this -- almost word for word, but in reverse. He was training in the gravity room while still badly injured. Bulma, undeniably, was pestering him about giving his body -- and likely his mind -- more time to heal. Fed up, Vegeta furiously declared how much he _didn't_ want her input. Three months later, they were sleeping together.   
  
Recalling this, Vegeta chuckled. He appeared more relieved than he felt. Bulma didn’t need the emotional strain of worrying about him being worried. _"Ah, I see your memory is intact. That will do for now, woman. I'll be here when you wake up, just like… you've always done for me."_   
  
Was he angry with her? Oh hell yes. But this was _his_ Bulma.  
  


* * *

  
Vegeta gripped the bridge of his nose, trying to shake off the effects of multiple sleepless nights, a recent struggle he wouldn't reveal to his wife. He and Bulma weren't sharing a bed since her release from hospital two weeks earlier. They hated the arrangement but agreed that her comfort outweighed the inconvenience. Her recovery was progressing, but the ordeal had left her with a lingering cough and fatigued. Her husband committed to keeping her active, but with less stress. Like Yamcha predicted, Vegeta felt torn about expecting his wife to radically cut down on engaging in her passions. Even during her maternity leave she had planned to stay moderately involved with Capsule Corporation projects.  
  
"Time to get up," he grunted quietly. "We have a deal. First walk. Then work. That includes me, remember? I have my own schedule to manage."  
  
Bulma dragged a huge pillow over her face. "Go _away,_ Vegeta _._ I _want_ to sleep. Don’t you have something more enticing to do? You know, like frighten those vicious gossip columnists trying to dig up dirt about your gorgeous wife?"  
  
Vegeta removed the pillow, irritably throwing it on the cot where he usually slept. "Consider this payback for years of being awakened every _fucking_ weekend before I was prepared to deal with…life."   
  
Bulma's arm extended for him to pull her up. "You are a vengeful jackwagon, you know that?" She was already dressed in a maternity top and compression leggings to help with blood circulation. Vegeta said sleeping in her workout clothes the night before would be a good motivator for exercising. He and Trunks took turns helping her during the week.  
  
"I'm _shocked_ you would say such a thing. _Shocked_. Also, what the hell is a jackwagon? How do these shoes feel?" He had just tied the perfect knots on her trainers. For him, the greatest part was her legs and feet weren't as swollen.  
  
Bulma tugged on his bushy black hair. "I approve. I also need to brush my teeth."  
  
"Correct," Vegeta said as a flat-topped robot sputtered beside them. "Make it quick." The gadget's contents unfolded, revealing a tray with a mirror, toothpaste and toothbrush, water, and a shallow dish.  
  
With a mouthful of toothbrush, Bulma began her inquiry. "Tell me what's going on, Vegeta."  
  
He returned to room's far left end, looking out the window. "That's a terrible way to multitask. How about finishing that first before questioning me about whatever imaginary problem you believe I have?"  
  
The toothbrush dropped from Bulma's hand as she began to cough. Vegeta turned, moving quickly toward the bedside. He held her arms overhead to expand her lungs' breathing room.  
  
"You know what to do," he said, inhaling slowly and steadily. "Follow me my pace."  
  
Bulma appeared more frustrated and embarrassed than anxious as she recovered. "Please…don't say 'I told… you so.'"  
  
"I think I _earned_ the right," Vegeta said, lowering her arms. "I just warned you."  
  
Bulma took his hand before he could leave again. "Why can't you just say you're pissed off with me? I thought we decided a long time ago that when we're angry with each other --"  
  
Something inside of Vegeta snapped much differently than before. "That we could argue until agreeing on something? Maybe I don't _want_ that for either of us right now! You shouldn't either!"  
  
"That's unfair! You think I can't see and feel how drained you are?! _I'm your wife!_ You can't just bottle these emotions up. They're wearing on you. My body won't fall apart from the impact if you tell me."  
  
Bulma was nearing another coughing spasm, so Vegeta touched her lips, placing his opposite hand on her chest. Her eyes closed as his warming energy relaxed her. "You're trying my patience," he replied calmly. "It will take some time before I reach my limit, though."  
  
"Because you love me," Bulma sighed. "There. I finished the sentence for you."

Vegeta knelt, laying his head on her legs. "We're still going to walk together, but being silent will be easier on me for a while today."  
  
Bulma's hand rested on the crown of her husband's head. The depth of Vegeta's concern had caught up with him, she realized. "You're testing my patience too, but I'll back off for now."  
  
He was truly scared, perhaps more than he had ever been since they settled down together. Having another child, unexpectedly, was a trigger; learning that the elder Trunks' mother had been viciously murdered, and how she had wanted to meet them; wondering what life would be like if he had to raise two children alone; and now having a strong foreboding about another yet-to-be-revealed existential threat. There had been so many, and he and Bulma fought them side by side. He loved and revered her inner warrior. Yet in some ways, he hoped to die first before anyone else in their family so he wouldn't have to spend the rest of _this life_ waking up to an empty bed and irreparable hole in his heart.  
  
Bulma had been in harm's way one too many times solely because of him, Vegeta believed. Despite her determination to join him and Goku to fight Zamasu and Black, she shouldn't have been there. Why didn't he put his foot down harder to stop it? She wasn't a Saiyan woman. Rationally, he understood and empathized with her drive to innovate and to test and break limits. She possessed those attributes before they met, which later helped him redefine his own goals. But now her behavior seemed to be following the same self-destructive playbook that his once did: She had become the person injured and sitting on the floor, wrapped in bandages from head to toe, overworking and searching for consequence. But what was she trying to prove -- and to whom?  
  
On the flip side, maybe he was projecting his insecurities onto her. She wasn't intentionally trying to harm herself or their unborn child. He couldn't say the same about the uncontrolled abuse he inflicted on his body, after being tortured by Frieza on Namek and watching Goku surpass him.

He splashed water on his face to ground himself before returning to the bedroom. Bulma sniffled, wiping tears. Oh how he _hated_ it when she cried. After a lengthy sigh, he put a baseball cap backward on her head.  
  
"It may be easier to lock lips this way, right?" he asked. Bulma's soft laughter followed as they embraced.  
  
"Let's try it." Her thumb traced a path along his jaw, drawing his mouth to hers. As always, she tasted sugary to him. For Bulma, his flavor was hearty and balmy. The kiss itself recited their marriage vows.  
  
"I'm a fool sometimes."  
  
"You sure can be, Vegeta. I can be too."  
  
"It's not always about you, woman."  
  
"Since when?" Bulma pulled on his shirt collar, ordering him to move. He insisted that she walk first, holding her right hand from behind. "It certainly is about me now, given the argument we just had."  
  
"What are you trying to prove, driving yourself to such extremes? From the day you told me about the pregnancy, we knew the experience wouldn't be the same, but this behavior of yours started before I left to train with Whis. I can't… look away from it anymore."  
  
"Extremes, Vegeta? I have _always_ worked tremendously hard since I was a kid. We pushed the hell out of each other when we were younger, so don't you _dare_ take this route, not after what we've been through -- what _I've been through_ with you and our sons. I have supported you -- _believed_ in you."  
  
Vegeta exhaled. He didn't want to risk her having another breathing attack, but he had asked the badly timed question. Bulma got the extended argument she wanted, so his top priority was having her take medicine before leaving home. He kept quiet until they reached a winding path in their back yard.  
  
"You have believed in me, and I was selfish. I have to live with my worst mistakes. My selfishness now is rooted in something very different. I cannot -- _will not_ \-- lose you. I never thought this would be my life…our life… but it is."  
  
Bulma took a few more steps before leaning on him for more support. "As if I thought this would be _my life_ , but it is. I had to change my thinking after we got involved. You had lost everything, and what drives you as a Saiyan will always expose you to danger, including your past actions. Same with Son-kun."  
  
Vegeta defensively crossed his arms, looking away. "Leave Kakarot out of this."  
  
Regaining her stamina, Bulma slowly moved ahead. "That's like saying leave the stars out of the sky. The Dragon Balls' influence in his and our friends' lives began with me. Our _relationship --_ you and I -- began because of Son-kun."  
  
"What does that have to do with anything?"  
  
"Everything."  
  
"What do you mean, Bulma?"  
  
She thrust her stick into the grass, facing him. "You are not _the only one_ who doesn't want to live in someone else's shadow, Vegeta! You're not _the only one_ who struggles for meaning! You aren't _the only one_ who has something to protect. After you returned last year with a giant _crack_ in your chest after fighting with Black, with blood splattered everywhere, I…I felt so insignificant. Nothing I do will ever be enough, and now we have another child on the way. My god, I just feel like everything is upside down."  
  
Despite feeling hurt, through his wife's words, Vegeta heard echoes from his own struggles that led to triumphs as well as his near-destruction mentally. Bulma needed him now more than ever.  
  
"What can I do?" he asked.  
  
Bulma looked down at her gravid stomach, placing his hand on it. "You're here. You're really listening."  
  
"Because I… have been in your position. You listened when I didn't want to hear for a long time -- and you _are_ enough." He felt the fetus move as if in agreement.  
  
Bulma's thumb intertwined with his. "We should go back now, I think. I'll do a little work at home, and then --"  
  
"We’ll work things out for however long it takes, Bulma. I don’t think I'll ever be --"  
  
"I'm not asking you to be something you aren't at this point in our lives, Vegeta."  
  
Vegeta snorted. "You haven't asked me for anything yet, at least not right now, but I _expect_ you will."   
  
Bulma's infectious laughter was enough to quell his emerging crankiness. "Guaranteed!"  
  
An uncomfortable silence settled between them momentarily. Bulma stroked her husband's cheek to soothe his unexpressed anxieties. She was due in two weeks to have a preventative procedure to protect her kidneys from failing. Vegeta held both sides of her face, kissing her intensely, hoping beyond hope that it wouldn't be their last.  
  



	3. A Finer Inheritance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From last chapter: Bulma and Vegeta have a heart-to-heart talk about their hopes and concerns about the future.

The sorority of human mothers of Saiyan children had already been to visit Bulma as she prepared to give birth. Chi Chi was the most protective, acting as the chief interrogator of anyone in their line of sight, including all medical staff as well as friends. Bulma was in good spirits. Vegeta was outwardly stoic, naturally, belying the bundle of nervous energy he felt inside. Trunks was a light for both parents. It had been the longest nine months of their lives.

A few weeks earlier, Whis and Goku had been to visit Vegeta, attempting to gauge his ability to train further after so many months of absence. Of course Vegeta refused, not fully revealing the extent of his concern about Bulma's condition to either. At the time, he didn't know that he would be needed to fight, eventually, in a tournament to preserve their universe's very existence.

After hearing the entire story, though he was finally told about the pregnancy, Goku felt hurt that neither Vegeta nor Bulma had shared anything about her difficulties - especially Bulma. Chi Chi scolded her husband, saying the couple had a right to disclose whatever they wanted as they saw fit, and that the entire situation had been hard on them. Goku also had not been around for a long stretch.

Whis quietly entered Bulma's room as she slept. There was concern that she would need a caesarean delivery the following day. Vegeta, who was dressed in scrubs and also asleep, was sprawled and snoring on a bed not far from his wife. The angel couldn't intrude too much, but this was a special circumstance, and Vegeta's presence was desperately essential.

Whis touched Bulma's hand, sparking a misty glow over her body. "The light of _hope_ is your true power, Bulma, for your children, your husband, and your friends. Your fight is theirs, and their fight is yours. May that spirit continue to abide within you."

The angel then turned toward Vegeta with a knowing smile. "Congratulations, Prince Vegeta. Your little one is as lovely as her mother and I expect will be even feistier. Get your rest. You and Son Goku will need it - and each other." _  
_  
An extremely drowsy Vegeta woke up soon after Whis disappeared. He glanced protectively at his still-sleeping wife, who had a content smile on her face. The couple hoped their little family could look back on this period fondly. Feeling the urge to walk outside, Vegeta left the room, making eye contact with two members of the nursing staff. All had known each other for years, and those broads were like drill sergeants. Even Vegeta could say they met his high standards. Bulma was in good hands with them.

He sat alone outside not too far from a small, weathered shrine that managed to remain for a millennia as a modern city grew around it. Vegeta already had the honor - and sometimes misfortune - of being in the near-constant presence of powerful gods and wise men for many years. This shrine, in theory, was for those Earth-bound mortals who did not and never would. Still, its simplicity drew his interest. The idea of praying to anything, for any reason, _by himself_ was unconceivable, and yet here he was. Saiyans had a righteous warrior, Yamoshi, who tried to save their people from themselves, ferociously battling evil. Vegeta could now call on that spirit's remarkable god power to strengthen himself and right wrongs. But Goku, once again, had been the conduit leading to the prince's eventual ascension.

As he thought about his family, a wind gust blew over him and underneath the shrine. A miniature twister snaked between the pillars, transforming into a glowing red-and-green silhouette. Yamoshi bore an arresting resemblance to him, right down to his commanding stance. The Super Saiyan God didn't speak. He was there to remind the prince of the good within him, as well as his duty. Vegeta nodded, feeling reassured as the spirit left with a radiant burst of ki. Vegeta had received a finer inheritance than the one he once pursued - a legacy he could pass down to his children with the utmost pride.

Bulma's legs were propped up as Mia sat front and center monitoring the dilation of her cervix the following day. Delivery was close. Blessedly, all of Bulma's vital signs were perfect. She had no problems with other organs either, but she wouldn't be out of the woods for a while, the doctor thought. Vegeta, however, believed otherwise. He hadn't told Bulma about his connection with Yamoshi but would eventually.

Her breathing pace was solid and strong as sweat poured down her face and neck. Vegeta leaned in, holding his wife's hand through her contractions. Her head laid on his shoulder as he wiped her brow. Not once did she scream through her pain, though Vegeta wouldn't have cared if she had.

"You're doing well," he whispered.

"I know," Bulma replied, catching him by surprise. He would have laughed, but too many people were near.

Their new daughter, however, belted out a memorable holler soon after leaving Bulma's womb. To her parents, the bawling sounded like music. Though Vegeta didn't show it, he was anxious when Mia called him over to clean the baby. She had a little tail, delighting him. Bulma beamed and cried watching her husband's involvement. She couldn't help it. Being overwhelmed himself, Vegeta didn't have much say at first, stroking the infant's soft tuft of blue air. After regaining his composure, he delicately placed her in his wife's arms.

"I have name for her, Bulma."

Bulma's eyes met his. "I do too." She looked determined, which her husband recognized straight away.

Vegeta swallowed uncomfortably. "I don't remember discussing this."

"We _did_ , Vegeta. You just didn't listen. Her name is Bulla."

"But -"

"She's beautiful, isn't she?"

Vegeta sighed, scowling as they kissed. "I'm guess not going to win this."

"You got that right," Bulma said, pinching his cheek. "Thanks for playing though."

Appearing as serious as a heart attack, Trunks marched into the room. Vegeta looked up with distrusting eyes. The teen was up to something, probably involving him. The fact that Trunks _wasn't_ smiling immediately blew his cover. His father was entertained yet slightly displeased that his son had overplayed his hand so terribly. After all, Trunks had years of proper teaching about deception.

With a spin of his right index finger, he emptied the teenager's pocket. "Give me that _damn_ phone, boy. The staff instructed you not to bring it in here. There will be _no_ pictures. Understand?"

"Sure, papa." Trunks pouted some, shuffling his feet as Vegeta smiled smugly. It wasn't until the boy's head raised that the prince knew he'd been deceived.

Bulma had already given Vegeta their baby, so he couldn't do much of anything else. A barely audible click chimed from the left side the bed, followed by several camera flashes.

"You're both dead to me," Vegeta growled as Bulma and Trunks laughed. Bulla cooed in her daddy's arms, pleasantly distracting him.

Without broadcasting their chatter, Whis briefly projected an image of the family to Beerus. The destroyer was seated on a stack of luxurious pillows, swishing his long tail.

"And _why_ do you believe I would be highly interested those earthlings' soppy affairs, Whis? I just hope Vegeta's focus won't be clouded when our universe is fighting for its existence. "

Whis smiled. "I believe you don't have to worry about that whatsoever, my lord."

* * *

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